Oh the Places You'll Go
by peroxidepest17
Summary: She remembers all their adventures together.


**Title: **Oh the Places You'll Go  
**Universe:** One Piece  
**Theme/Topic: **Decorations  
**Rating:** G  
**Character/Pairing/s:** Strawhats in the general sense.   
**Warnings/Spoilers:** For um, up to Water 7, I suppose?   
**Word Count:** 1,170  
**Summary:** She remembers all their adventures together.  
**Dedication:** kaeruchan's request on my New Year's request thread. **  
A/N:** This totally went in a different direction than I'd initially wanted it to, but in the end I just let these things write themselves, I think. But yeah, apologies if this is horribly wrong, I'm only caught up with the anime and thus making wild assumptions all on my own. Anyway! As it is New Year's eve, I suppose this goes with the theme of you can't see where you're going unless you look back at where you've been. Enjoy!  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine, though I wish constantly.  
**Distribution:** Just lemme know.

* * *

She traveled distances farther than anyone could imagine and had adventures both amazing and terrifying, had stories that were shocking and stories that were beautiful.

She saw and experienced a million different things and shared it all with people she loved and who loved her back.

She saved countries.

She destroyed empires.

She made new friends and defeated impossible enemies.

She flew.

She fought for as long as she was able.

She knew she lived a good life.

It was a journey they began together, and while she sometimes wished she could see it through to the end with them, she knew that all she could hope for was to go as far as she could and fight for every step of the way. It was what they'd taught her about how to live, after all.

And when she was done fighting—exhausted to the deepest part of her core— she finally, blissfully let herself collapse. Her leg of the adventure was over and here, she thought, was a suitable place for her to spend her final moments. It was just as well, she could go no further. Alone but never truly alone, she supposed she didn't mind dying in the dark and cold like this as long as she knew that she had done her best to protect them— that they were safe.

Well, as safe as they could be.

And as she prepared herself to die she did as everyone does in their final moments: she looked back on her life. In doing so she recounted vast memories of every sort, and knew she had no regrets despite everything, knew that dying young and full of adventures like this was far better than growing old in quiet and safety, better than never ever having been through all the amazing things she had been through. At least this way she wouldn't end her life wondering what it could have been like if only she'd gone out and lived to the fullest.

Because already she knew.

She knew that while it was never easy for them it was always new and exciting, and through it all, she had never been truly alone, not for a moment. They'd been at her side—_nakama—_from the very beginning, from her _birth,_ and had carried her through each moment as much as she had carried them. There were so few people in the world she knew of, who could say something like that and never have to think twice about it, never doubt.

Through good times and bad the Strawhat pirates had always been together, and she had as many memories of those times as she had scars to mark each fantastical encounter by. Not the most attractive thing in the world to wear on one's body perhaps, but she bore them all like decorations—medals of honor— and never begrudged any one of her crewmates for any of them. She knew the rest of the people who stepped aboard her decks had plenty of scars all their own anyway.

And when she thought about it, each and every one of the marks left behind told her a story, reminded her, warmed her. All of her scars had a special place in her heart, as she was sure those old scratches and tears and patched up spots did in the rest of the crew's. Because behind each of them there was the story of an adventure or a quiet moment shared between a family— all in all some great thing that only they as a group had gotten to see or feel together. No one else. They'd been to so many places together, driven one another farther than they'd ever imagined they'd go.

A once in a lifetime deal.

And so the steam burns and the grease stains from Sanji's s stove or the nicks from the wind of Zoro's katana from early morning training sessions were all sported with exactly the same reverence as the red ribbon Chopper had given pinned to her as decoration on his birthday and forgot to take down afterwards, and the tiny ink stains from Nami's late-nights were all just as loved as the hand-shaped, foot-shaped welts left by Luffy's desperately grasping limbs in the heat of battle.

Because they reminded her of the warm waters of east blue or the desert shores of the coast of Arabasta, the hot spray of the knock-up stream and the gentle seas of white soft cloud that followed. They meant the nights she carried them sleeping—safe and secure in their dreams—and the days they battled together, come what may.

There were places on her deck where a Tabasco Star had inadvertently exploded on its owner or where a chemical had accidentally bubbled out and over the rim of a test tube, burning those stories into her wood, and though it had been but a brief acquaintance, there remained traces of the thin scratches Carue's feet had left in her, while the earthy smell of Robin's aged tomes was just as big a part of her cabin as the scent of Zoro's cheap boozes and Sanji's fine wines.

A vintage from Drum Island perhaps, or the aged gold from the depths of Skypeia, a suction-cup scar from a fantastical flying octopus balloon. All of these were dear things in her memory, the marks of how far she had come in so short a time. Moments shared with those dearest to her.

Of course there were less gentle scars as well; she remembered the lick of fire and the angry crack of her mast, the iron collar around her throat from where her neck had been snapped, her side torn open and bleeding.

A hard, short life, but even as she had been hurt because of them, she knew how fiercely they had battled to save her as well, and with her dying will she did the same—because they were nakama—and carried them as far as she was able, until they were safe again. Only then could she finally rest, her back broken, her heart torn out.

All battle scars worn like decorations, because every bit of her told the story of their adventures together, and she would not trade a moment of it for all the world, for immortality or beyond.

She'd gone so far with them, and though she wished she could carry them all to the completion of their journey, she knew that even still, she'd never be truly without them or they without her—they were nakama and never truly alone.

Their dreams were her dreams after all—she would share them with her crew even in death and they would remember her always, for the adventures they'd shared together and all the places they'd been.

When she died they mourned, and she wished they wouldn't.

She had no regrets.

She only hoped that whoever carried them next would be as much loved as she was.

Because they still had so far to go.

**END**


End file.
